


Yore-Doom: The Great Sledding Adventure

by TheChocolateArmor



Category: PBG Hardcore, PBG Hardcore series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChocolateArmor/pseuds/TheChocolateArmor
Summary: “Up on that hill?!”, McJones exclaimed. “Why can’t we just go down those… er…. Moregentlehills- like we did last time?”“Aww, you’ll be fine,” Dean replied. “You’ll have a blast!”“No I won’t. I’ll probably die.”





	Yore-Doom: The Great Sledding Adventure

It was perfect weather for sledding.  


Last night's snow had thoroughly covered the hills while the inhabitants of the land were sleeping, creating a soft, powdery substance perfect for pretty much any winter activity. White fluffy flakes coated the pines of the forests in the foothills, and the stream that ran through them had all but frozen. The sun couldn't quite seem to break through the clouds, and this state of the weather protected any individuals who happened to be outside from its blinding reflections in the snow.  


So, it really wasn’t a question of whether Dean should go sledding, but rather a question of _Where_ he should go sledding. After hours of pondering over this question, he finally came to a decision, and being the obnoxious, yet friendly person he was, Dean offered his partner, Professor McJones, the generous privilege of joining him on his adventurous stunt.  


And stunt it was, for, as McJones soon discovered, Dean had decided to sled down the steepest slope on the map, (after which he took that very same map, crushed it in his fist, and proceeded to stomp on it, rendering it illegible, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs: “WHO NEEDS A MAP!”). At any rate, his choice was certainly a daring one. The hill was about as steep as a good knife was sharp, and was apparently such a terrifying monstrosity, that locals referred to it as, simply, “Yore-Doom”.  


“Up on that hill?!”, McJones exclaimed when he heard of Dean’s proposal. “Why can’t we just go down those… er…. More _gentle_ hills- like we did last time?”  
“Aww, you’ll be fine,” Dean replied. “You’ll have a blast!”  


“No I won’t,” McJones deadpanned. “I’ll probably die.”  


Somehow, after a good amount of arguing, Dean finally managed to drag the professor onto the ride with him, sitting him down in front and getting on behind him. With his right foot, he prepared to push off down the precipitous summit that topped this slope.  


As he did so, McJones tried very hard not to look at the drop ahead of them. Eyeing the landscape below him normally wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest- he often delighted in good views from high elevations, especially ones from high mountains or steep slopes like this one. However, this time, he felt quite woozy staring down the hill. He swore he spotted at least 30 rocks that were built for the single purpose of being ran into. Or, at least- he thought he did. It was hard to tell with his vision twirling in and out of focus.  


“You ready, McJones?”, Dean inquired, wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist from behind.  


“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?”, McJones asked apprehensively.  


“Yes, I’m sure”, his partner replied. “Don’t worry, Stew. It’ll be fun!”  


This confident statement came with a reassuring look from Dean, a kind smile that McJones had only just begun to see from his friend recently. Bringing out only the best of Dean’s features, it was a perfect expression that melted his heart whenever he saw it, and McJones's nervousness lessened under that charming gaze. But even that didn’t seem to be enough to completely consume his fear.  


“W-Well,” McJones gulped. “If we end up getting killed, I'm definitely blaming you.”  


“Fair enough,” Dean shrugged. “I just won’t get us killed then.”  


“Easier said than done, but okay,” McJones sighed. “Well… I’m ready when you are.”  


After a solid countdown, and one or two preemptive winces from McJones, Dean pushed off.  


For the first few seconds, as they rounded the slope, the sled went pretty slow, but this was merely the beginning. As soon as it began its downhill descent, the ground seemed to leave them behind, and the air rushed past with a mighty force. Nausea jolted McJones’s stomach, and his heart was in his mouth. He simply couldn’t help but scream, as the bottom of the hill came closer and closer.  


“WAHOOOOO!!”, Dean cried out, laughing, as McJones continued to shriek. They were flying through the snow, flaky crystals whirling and dancing around them in clouds of white. The world zoomed past them, and everything became a blur. Each second of the ride was pure excitement, as colors and shapes and sounds swirled around them. Dean leaned forward, resting on McJones’s hunched back, making sure to keep his firm grip on his friend’s waist. He was laughing all the way down, and soon, even the professor managed to free a shaky chuckle as well.  


The sled bumped against the uneven terrain, and in a matter of seconds, they had reached the bottom. McJones breathed a sigh of relief, and prepared to enjoy the slow stop that he expected to witness. But of course, the sled was going much too fast to stop in the empty field at the bottom, and, like the evil traitor it seemed to be, it sped onward into the forest beyond.  


Shadows suddenly fell around them like a curtain. The trees whipped past them, and the sled rumbled like crazy on the roots that tangled the path before them. The tree branches seemed to come closer with every moment, threatening to grab them ,and giving off the illusion that the riders were being trapped in their twisted, twiggy fingers.  


As Dean realized what was happening, his smile quickly faded. Both of them were screaming now, their cries being distorted with every bump of the sled against tree roots.  


“Oh @#%*!”, Dean squealed as they barely managed to avoid a fallen log that had blocked their path.  
He hurriedly stuck out his foot, trying to stop the sled manually, as one would when slamming on the breaks. But, unfortunately for him, this attempt failed miserably, and it only ended in Dean’s leg being thrown backward. He tumbled head over heels, falling off the sled face-first into a snowbank, and leaving McJones on his own on the runaway sled.  


“DEAN!”, McJones exclaimed as he realized he was alone. “Aaagh! How do you stop this thing?!”  


The answer to his question came quickly, but not in the way he had expected. For, a mere two seconds after Dean had been abandoned, the sled ran straight into a rock, flinging the professor forward onto the path- the impact tearing a sharp cry from his lips as he hit the snow.  


He lay there for a few seconds, dazed. He was rather grumpy by this time, and he scowled as he sat up to put on his round spectacles. Dean had almost gotten them killed, even though he had said he wouldn’t! And, not only that, but McJones could already tell he’d have a terrible bruise later. But, even as he clenched his fists in anger, he was already calming down. At first, he didn’t quite understand why he felt so quick to regain his temper. But then he understood.  


It was because Dean was laughing.  


It wasn't nervous laughter, as one would expect to hear from someone who had just been flung into the snow off a sled that was probably going at least 100 miles per hour. No, it was pure, ringing, light-hearted laughter. The giggles were like music, gentle notes forming an upbeat melody.  


As McJones looked over his shoulder, he could faintly see Dean, still lying in the snowbank, and, not to the professor’s surprise, laughing his head off. The sweet, perfect sound echoed through the trees right up to McJones- who was almost beaming by then.  


“Dean, you alright?”, McJones chuckled as he made his way over to the giddy man.  


“I'm fine!”, Came the response, between laughs. “How are you?”  


“I'm okay now,” McJones smirked. He offered his hand to help Dean up and the latter gladly accepted it.  


“You're covered in snow, Dean!”, McJones laughed as he began to brush the white fluff off of Dean's clothing. “But you're right…. That was pretty fun.”  


Dean smirked.  


“So you admit it, then.”  


“Oh shut up, Dean. You know I’d only do something as insane as this to make you happy.”  


“Yeah, and that’s another thing you’re finally admitting.”  


“Dean, what is that even supposed to mean?”  


“Ohhh, nothiiiiiiiiing.”  


“W-Whatever.” McJones could feel himself blushing a little, but he ignored the burning in his cheeks.  


“Ya know what else is fun?”, Dean raised a sly eyebrow, and stared straight into McJones’s eyes.

“What, Dean?”

“Going home, and getting some hot chocolate. C'mon!” With a sudden energetic bounce, he grabbed the professor’s hand, pulling him away from the slope and dragging him on toward his house. McJones laughed in response, and hurried to keep up with Dean’s excited pace. Along the way, he took hold of the sled’s reins, dragging it behind him like a little dog. And they eventually made their way out of the forest and over to McJones’s place, sharing friendly conversation as they went.  


Soon, there the two companions sat comfortably- sipping the best hot chocolate they’d ever had in front of a nice warm fire. They didn’t say much. Instead, they simply sat staring at the dancing flames and enjoying one another’s company. Dean let out a soft hum as he rested his head against McJones’s shoulder, his half-lidded eyes gazing at the burning embers in the hearth. Smiling a little, McJones gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.  
“Tired?”, he asked.  


“Yeah… A little.”  


“I’m not surprised.”  


Dean let out a small, sleepy chuckle.  


“Thanks, McJones…”  


“For what?”  


“Oh, you know… Actually coming with me and sledding down ‘Yore-Doom’ with me.”  


“Oh, it’s no trouble, Dean.”  


“I know..”  


Dean shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around McJones’s chest, but instead of grabbing him tightly, his touch was soft and gentle. Perhaps this was because Dean was tired, but then again, perhaps it was for another reason altogether. McJones accepted the gesture all the same. Pulling his buddy into a heartfelt embrace, McJones softly ran his fingers through Dean's fluffy hair.  


After a few minutes of silence, McJones heard Dean breathing softly- fast asleep in his arms. The only sound was the ticking of the clock and the smooth respiration of the sleeping individual. As the flames flickered into mere streams of smoke, McJones didn’t bother to get up and fuel the dying fire.  


He was warm enough already.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I did a Ryzab fluff. You're welcome I guess?
> 
> I dunno... I'm still trying to improve my terrible writing skills and I also worked on the majority of this at night while I was totally brain dead so I can not tell how it looks. (Also, if you guys have any tips/criticism/etc, I will gladly take them, thanks.)


End file.
